


Electricity Between the Both of Us (and This Is Dangerous)

by starsandgraces



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Future Fic, Genderswap, Injury, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Trapped, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/pseuds/starsandgraces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sent on a mission to Canada to retrieve a rare kind of flower for Deaton, Scott and Danika find themselves trapped deep below ground with no way to call for help. Unfortunately for them, that's only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electricity Between the Both of Us (and This Is Dangerous)

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this both non-con and dub-con due to the nature of sex pollen and fandom's varying definitions of the two terms. Please be aware of this should you choose to read further.
> 
> My huge thanks go to [dirtymackem](http://dirtymackem.tumblr.com), without whom this fic would never have been finished, and also for her sterling beta work. Title taken from Landfill by Daughter.

Scott's leg snaps in the fall, the shattered bone sticking clean out of his thigh. Danika has to wrench it back into place before he'll heal. He yowls, clawing at her wrists, and then passes out.

Her cell phone broke more permanently than his leg, smashed beyond help against the rocks. She jabs at the touchscreen and it makes a sad, warped bleep before dying completely. Danika holds back a snarl of frustration as she shoves it into her pocket and crouches by Scott, looking through his clothes for his cell. When she finds it, it's unbroken—remarkably—but it doesn't have reception. At all. Not even the "emergency calls only" kind of no reception.

Danika looks up at what little of the sky she can see and murmurs, " _Why_."

While Scott's still out, his head pillowed on their shared backpack, she explores the limits of their surroundings. There are tunnels leading away from this main chamber, but she can't smell fresh air coming from any of them. Most are too small for a person, and only three are large enough for Danika to walk instead of crawl. She ventures a little way down one of those before deciding against it and retreating back to her starting point. The last thing she wants is to get separated from Scott and lost down here. Together, they might get out. Apart... Danika doesn't want to think about it.

The part of the cave they're in is huge. The hole they fell through must be fifty feet above them, at least, and it's too far out from the walls for anyone to be able to climb back to it, even if there were enough handholds for them to make it up. Half-melted snow drips into the chamber, covering the walls with streaks of slick wetness, as if it wasn't going to be difficult enough for them.

Danika leans her head against a dry part of the smooth stone and closes her eyes in frustration.

"Fuck," she says quietly. It echoes mockingly back at her.

She pulls herself together after a minute and stalks back over to where she left Scott. He's still a little pale but at least he's conscious now, which is a marked improvement over the last time she saw him. He sits up at Danika's approach.

"Are you healed?" she asks brusquely, and then continues without waiting for an answer. "We should move. There's no obvious way out from here and I don't like the look of the snow coming in from the surface."

"Can you help me up?" Scott asks in reply. He extends his arm to her and she helps him get to his feet. He winces a little as he tests the leg. "Mostly. Enough to walk on it, if you help."

Danika retrieves her bag from the ground and then, with Scott's arm around her shoulders, they make their way to the nearest of the larger tunnels. She stops.

"There are two others big enough to walk down. I couldn't smell a way out through any of them."

"Which one do you think?" he asks, deferring to her. Scott hasn't done that in a long time and it makes her feel strangely guilty. She got them into this mess.

"I don't think it matters. Maybe they all go the same place. It all smells the same to me down here."

"Me too," he admits. "Like wet soil, like—"

"Like rocks."

He snorts a laugh, even though she wasn't kidding and it really wasn't that funny.

"Let's just go," she says, pulling Scott into the tunnel.

The echoes are the worst part about being underground. Every footstep is a hundred times louder than it should be and it reverberates relentlessly back into their sensitive ears, like a jackhammer. Even when the stone under their feet gives way to sodden moss, there are still general cave noises: the drip and trickle of condensing water, a broken piece of rock clattering to the floor. Logically, Danika knows that the chances of the cave coming down around their ears have to be slim to none, but it doesn't stop her from gripping Scott's arm tightly, holding him in place until they're both _sure_.

They haven't had the luckiest day, after all.

They walk for a long time, farther into the darkness of the tunnel. Danika is pretty sure they're getting closer to the surface, but the ground rises and falls so much that it's difficult to tell with any kind of confidence. At least they have the advantage of wolf vision to prevent them from stumbling down any more pits.

After what Danika thinks might be an hour, give or take the week it _feels_ like they've been down here, Scott says, "We should take a break."

"Okay," she says. "It's not like we're short on time down here." _Apart from the cold and the probable lack of oxygen, there's no reason to hurry at all_ , she doesn't add.

Scott pulls off a glove and uses his fingertips to find a dry patch of rock—even wolf vision can't help with that—sitting down with a faint groan. His legs splay out in front of him like a ragdoll's and he runs his bare hand over the rip in the cloth of his pants where his femur tore through. 

"I didn't thank you for fixing it," he says, looking up at Danika.

"You're pack. My... alpha." She pretends that it isn't the first time she's said it out loud and sits down next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"Danika," Scott says quietly. "I'm—"

"No."

He rubs his jaw slowly, exhales. "I was just going to say, your alpha's starving," he says. Maybe there was a little bit of emphasis on _alpha_. Maybe she's reading too much into it. "Got anything in the backpack?"

"Yeah," Danika says, thankful for the excuse to turn away while she fumbles through it. "Power bars, jerky, trail mix... a packet of dog treats, because Stiles thinks he's _hilarious_."

"Did I ever tell you about the time he got me a dog bowl with my name on it?" he asks, making grabby hands at the trail mix until Danika passes it over. 

"What the fu-udge." She opens the jerky and tears off a chunk with her teeth a little more viciously than necessary.

"You know, my mom probably appreciated that you didn't swear around us when we were younger, but I'm an adult now. You don't need to hold back."

"Stiles is a little fuck," she says concisely.

"Yeah, but he's _our_ little fuck," Scott says. She can hear him grinning.

"Ugh."

They eat their respective snacks without further conversation and then rest quietly, their shoulders just barely touching. 

Danika wonders if they're going to die down here. It's going to get even colder when the sun goes down and the werewolf ability to survive only goes so far. She clenches her hands into fists and grits her teeth, hot anger pulsing through her veins. Of all the ways she thought she might die, this is the last one she would have picked. _Not with a bang but a whimper_.

And then she hears the birdsong somewhere in the distance, echoing down the honeycomb of tunnels.

"I'm going crazy," Scott says, hunching closer to her. "I can hear—"

"Birds? We're both going crazy, then, because I can too."

"There might be a whole ecosystem down here. I don't understand why Deaton didn't say anything."

"Maybe Deaton doesn't know _everything_ ," Danika mutters, still angry. She drops her head against the wall and immediately regrets it, the rock so cold she can feel it through her hair.

"Maybe not," Scott says sharply, "but you know he wouldn't send us somewhere we might _die_ without a warning. We were just meant to find that plant he wanted, not end up stuck in some cave system."

"I'm sorry, okay?" she snaps back. "Sorry I slipped; sorry your hero complex compelled you to try and save me."

Scott looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't, and they lapse into an uncomfortable silence. 

Eventually, Danika says, "How's your leg?"

"Cold," Scott says. He heaves himself to his feet, grimacing when he puts his weight on it. It should have healed completely a long time ago, and Danika feels a pang of worry. "Let's walk some more. Wouldn't it suck if we were sitting here and the way out was just around that corner?"

"We'd be able to smell it," she says, but there's no bite in her words now. She pulls the backpack over one shoulder and follows him.

Scott doesn't need to lean on her any more, so they can move a little quicker, but Danika still feels like they're going nowhere fast. And the way out _isn't_ just around the corner.

The birdsong gets fainter the farther they walk, until she's almost sure they imagined it. On the plus side, it seems to be getting warmer now—warm enough to peel off their gloves and unzip their coats—and Scott's moving more easily now. If she wasn't listening for his limp, she probably wouldn't notice his uneven stride at all. Even so, she finds herself moving in front of him, just in case they run into something.

Because of that, Danika is a few steps ahead of Scott when the tunnel opens into another chamber, brightly lit from above, so her eyes adjust to the light faster than his. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Scott, look."

This part of the cave is even bigger than where they fell in, and the ice covering the opening to the outside world is unbroken, casting everything in a bluish glow. But that isn't nearly the strangest thing about the chamber. 

The flowers are more beautiful than they appeared in the picture Deaton showed them, white and semi-translucent in the refracted sunlight from above. They stretch up to the roof of the chamber like stalagmites and tiny, shimmering birds flit between the columns, chirping happily.

"We weren't going crazy," Scott says, looking around as they walk in.

"We might still be going crazy," Danika says in a low voice. "Nothing about this screams sanity."

"Can you hold off on the pessimism for, I dunno, maybe ten minutes? We've found what we came for." He makes a grab at the nearest flower, but it's too far off the ground. One of the birds peeps in outrage.

"It might be easier to cut one down," she says. "You'll crush it otherwise."

"No, look—just give me a boost."

Danika sighs, but she interlocks her fingers, making a cup of her hands for Scott.

In Scott's defence, he gets hold of the flower without crushing it. Unfortunately, his momentum carries him straight into the thick stem of the plant, which sways wildly and ricochets into several others. The birds start squawking in alarm and the flowers, in some kind of hellish domino effect, begin belching out thick clouds of dust or pollen as they crash into each other—probably some kind of poison, considering the stellar day they've had.

"Run!" Scott says, grabbing her wrist and pulling hard.

They run, heads down and scarves pulled up over their noses against the pollen, but it's no good. The narrow paths between the plants are maze-like and Danika doesn't even know where the tunnel they came through is any more. Scott's fingers slip off her wrist and he's not beside her, suddenly.

Danika stops dead, swinging around to look around for him. The backpack falls from her shoulder and her scarf slips down off her face, but she doesn't care. Scott's the important thing. "Scott?" she calls.

"Da—" He breaks off in a fit of coughing and a pained gasp.

She turns back for him because she knows he would have done it for her, and she can't leave him, knowing that. But before Danika can make it to Scott, the pollen finds its way into her lungs. Her head is thick and heavy with the scent that fills the air. It's like nothing she's ever smelled before, curling in the back of her throat like something corporeal. She's down on her knees, choking on it.

"Scott," she gasps, reaching out for him with both hands.

When their fingers meet, an electric surge runs between them. She jerks away, but something's different now.

Heat floods her body from the inside out. Everything hurts for a moment, hurts like she's been set on fire—hurts like her worst nightmares—before it eases away and becomes a thrumming tingle, spreading out to her extremities. It settles in the pit of her stomach and between her legs; an unexpected throb of arousal that makes the wolf inside her want to bare its throat. It's wrong.

It's right.

"Are you feeling this too?" Danika says. She digs her nails into the rock under her hands.

Scott nods, his throat working as he swallows. She can't take her eyes off it. "What's happening?" he asks, his voice strained. His eyes are bright red, and hers must be blue.

"I don't know," she says, hating herself for feeling it, "I don't know, but I need you."

He cups her face in his hands and Danika can feel him shaking.

"If you don't want this..."

"I _need_ it," she says again.

"That's a different thing," Scott says, his mouth very close to hers now. Their noses bump together lightly and she can't think about it now, the complexities of want and need. It's not smart, but she's never pretended to be smart, so when she kisses Scott she can write it off as just one more fuck-up from Danika Hale.

He hesitates, even though he's been feeling the effects for longer. When he breaks under her mouth, it's like unleashing a flood.

Their teeth clash painfully and she thinks she might taste blood for a moment before the split lip heals again, but she can't tell whose blood it is. It doesn't stop either of them. Scott's fingers are tight in her hair and she grabs at his coat, at the nape of his neck, wanting him closer even when there's no more space between them. It's like a brawl, the two of them clutching and pulling and biting, arms around shoulders and legs around hips.

His lips are chapped from the cold and rough against her mouth, and she delights in it. Whatever's happened, her senses are heightened to another level entirely. It's the first time in her life she's ever felt like she could come from just a kiss.

Scott presses his mouth against her throat and she throws her head back with a hoarse moan, letting him bite and suck marks into her skin that, three years ago, would have been an unthinkable sign of submission. Now, Danika wants nothing more. 

"Harder," she says, with a slow roll of her hips.

Scott growls into her ear, his hips jerking in response, but he doesn't bite harder. Instead, he pushes her away with enough force that Danika falls back onto the ground. She turns over, furious, but the moment she's on her hands and knees, Scott's behind her, holding her hips tight.

"What are you doing?" she hisses.

"What do you think?"

It might be warmer here but it's still too cold to undress, and Danika doesn't know if she'd have the patience for it even if it weren't. Scott yanks at the back of her pants and she pushes her ass against his crotch, panting with need, too far gone to care about human things like _dignity_. 

She hears stitches popping and Scott swearing before his hands are fumbling at her zipper, which is so _Scott_ that Danika rolls her eyes. "Just tear them," she says over her shoulder. "Fuck it, Scott, do it."

He grunts, but keeps working at the fastening until he can pull her pants down to her knees in one piece. She gasps at the cold air on her suddenly bared skin, but it's not even a second before he's inside her and she has something else to concentrate on. Danika comes faster than she ever thought possible, her orgasm ripping through her like an earthquake the moment she feels the length of his dick filling her. She cries out, dropping to her elbows and arching up into Scott's thrusts.

Danika expects the arousal to fade now that she's come, but it doesn't. If anything, it intensifies to an almost painful level. The only things holding her on this side of the line between pleasure and pain are Scott's hands on her hips and the quiet, sighing noises he lets out with every slide of his cock.

Scott leans forward and presses himself along her back, his breath hot against her neck. "Danika," he says, each syllable punctuated with a sharp thrust, and scrapes his teeth over her nape, _hard_

Her fingers find her aching clit and she comes again, moaning his name. Scott leans back fast, keeping them balanced, and his steady hands hold her up, keep her from sliding down until she's flat against the cold floor. Just like the first time, there's no relief in her orgasm. She's never experienced anything like this before and she cries out in mingled frustration and pleasure. He keeps pounding into her and she bites back another moan, spreading her legs as far as her pants will let her. Danika never really got off on penetration—she's more of a foreplay girl—until now. And now it's the best thing she can imagine.

When he comes with one final balls-deep thrust, she feels _everything_. The way his muscles clench, the hot spurt of semen inside her. She'd be horrified if she could think about anything other than the next fuck.

Scott pulls out, breathing heavily, and Danika isn't surprised to see that he's still hard when she rolls over. If she can't find any relief, it must be just as bad for him.

Her cunt throbs and Scott's eyes fly up to meet hers, his nostrils flaring.

"You can—"

"Smell you," he finishes.

"No," Danika says, trying to push her pants farther down before realising her boots are in the way. "Yes. Shut up and go down on me."

She watches what's left of Scott's self-control shatter into a million tiny pieces right before her eyes. He tears through the laces of her boots with his claws and pulls them off, then yanks her pants away and buries his face between her thighs like it's something he needs to live. Danika feels like it's something _she_ needs to live at the moment.

Scott goes right for her clit, not wasting any time with stupid things like teasing or restraint and she makes a noise that probably never had any words associated with it in the first place, clamping her thighs around his ears to hold him in place; not that he needs holding in place. His tongue traces a convoluted path around and over her clit until every nerve is electrified, shooting _holy fuck_ messages to her brain and back.

"Fuck, Scott," she hisses from between her teeth. It doesn't even matter what he does down there; everything feels amazing and it's all building again, making her feel like she's going to shake apart.

 _It can't be this good_ , Danika thinks through the fog, in spite of the evidence to the contrary. She grinds her cunt against his mouth and possibly tells him not to stop, though maybe she just thinks it, and Scott alternates between fucking her with his tongue and with his fingers until Danika isn't sure if she's coming or not. It all feels the same.

 _Fuck-pack-friend-Scott-brother-alpha-fuck_ , says her brain, and maybe she gasps a few of them aloud. She doesn't know. She's outside her body, watching herself through the ice.

When she comes to herself again, Scott is sucking marks into her thighs and jacking himself off with frantic movements of his arm. He sits back on his heels when he sees her watching, lips parted and the reddened head of his dick peeking out from his fist. She aches for it inside her again.

"You taste like me," Scott mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand. His face and fingers are slick with both their orgasms, and Danika wants to hold him down and lick him clean. "It's so hot, you don't _know_."

"I want to know," she says in a rush, shifting to her knees in front of him. The rock will bruise her—Scott must have bruised when he was on his knees for her—but right now it feels like werewolf healing was made for times like this.

They've fucked and he's eaten her out, but this is the first time she's had a really good look at his cock. It's thick with a slight upward curve to it, flushed a deep pinkish-red that darkens as it goes up the shaft, drawing her eye up. There's a bead of precome nestled at the tip, and as Scott squeezes his hand tight, it spills over and runs down the head, leaving a glistening trail. The sight triggers another rush of tingling wetness from her cunt. She follows its path in reverse with her tongue, up from his balls to the vee beneath the head of his dick.

Scott groans like he's been punched in the gut, and she wants to make him make that noise again. He didn't tease her, so she doesn't tease him, and he curls his fingers in her hair as she takes him into her mouth, trying to find the right angle for maximum tongue and minimum teeth. The curve makes his dick slide across her soft palate before she can adjust, and it induces a spurt of saliva that leaks from the corners of her mouth.

Danika can taste herself on his dick, and him underneath it, soap and sweat. Just like Scott said, it's the most arousing thing she can think of right now. Other than having someone else fuck her from behind while she sucks his cock, but she doesn't think that's going to happen. She reaches between her legs with one hand and slides three fingers inside herself, moaning around Scott's dick. He likes that, from the way he groans and holds her head in place, pushing deeper into her mouth. Danika hasn't sucked an awful lot of dick in her life, and she's certainly never deep-throated one before, but it just feels like the natural next step.

She gags but Scott seems to like that, too.

Danika keeps her head down and her lips stretched around his cock, fucking herself with her fingers while he thrusts into her mouth. It's good but it's not enough, and she hates it, this _needing_ something she can't have. Her teeth scrape along his dick and Scott makes the kind of pained-pleasure noise she feels.

When he comes there's less of it than before, but she still feels it burning a bitter path down her throat to her stomach after she swallows.

Danika kneels back, working her cunt with her fingers crooked and her thumb sliding over her clit, and Scott stares at her hand, making no pretence of where his interest lies. Deep inside, so faint she hardly notices, Danika feels dirty and unsure. It's gone before it makes any impact. 

"Are you going to watch me all day?" she asks in a low voice, easing her fingers out of herself and raising them to her mouth.

He hesitates; she sees it in his eyes. It disappears as fast as her own doubt, and Scott bodily lifts her off the floor and carries her across the chamber to the nearest wall, pushing her up against the cold rock. His dick slides against her belly, hot and wet, and she gasps, digging her nails into his shoulders—no, they're claws now, and they cut straight through Scott's jacket and into his skin. He winces and thrusts inside her with one sharp movement of his hips, making Danika moan with pleasure.

This is bad, though. Worse than before, when she at least believed there might be some satisfaction. Now she knows there's nothing else, and she takes out her frustration on Scott with her claws and her teeth and the heels of her feet dug into the small of his back. 

It's a fight and Danika wants to win it. She's sick of losing.

But Scott drives her into the wall again and again, relentlessly turning Danika's fight back on her, using it against her until she gives in to him with an angry, wordless cry. And the worst part is that she knows it's right.

It's better when she gives in to it, even though she thinks her body might be beyond another orgasm. It feels good but nothing gathers itself in the pit of her belly, urging her on to greater heights, begging Danika to let herself tip over the edge and freefall down. 

She's right. She doesn't come this time, but Scott does, pinning her motionless against the stone, their faces almost touching, their gazes locked. Danika looks away first—submits—dropping her legs from around his waist, and he pulls out and takes a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment, it looks like he's going to say something. 

And then Scott takes a few steps away from her and drops to the floor, hitting the ground with an audible smack as he sits down, his eyes closed and his lips parted. But his dick is still erect and she knows it's not the end—if there even _is_ an end to this.

She has to try.

Danika's so tired now, so wet she can barely feel anything at all, but she still sinks into Scott's lap, onto his dick. Someone groans—she can't tell if it was her—and she drops her head, resting it against his shoulder. Her thighs strain to lift her up, almost all the way up and off his dick entirely before she lets the tension out and slides back down. It's definitely Scott who moans then, his hips making little jerking motions into her.

She puts her arms around his neck and rocks rhythmically, her clit rubbing against the base of his dick, something slowly building between them through the numbness of her overtaxed body. _But what? Another pointless orgasm_ , she thinks hazily, and turns her head to kiss him.

It's not like the kisses of before, this one, where the thing that had taken them over wanted heat and blood, though Danika can still taste it in the back of her throat. But she's not sure it's all her and all Scott yet, either. If it were, she might not be able to do it. She moans into Scott's mouth and pushes herself harder onto his cock, pushes the thoughts away.

Scott kisses her like she's everything, his hips rolling fluidly as his hands move over her hips and thighs in light strokes. He's not holding her in place the way he was before; instead, he's coaxing her to move with him, to let go.

When she does, something snaps deep inside Danika: in her chest, her belly, her cunt. The relief she's been chasing comes, _finally_ , as she does, her muscles spasming around his dick. She sobs breathlessly, looking away from Scott, tears spilling down her face and rolling off the fabric of his jacket in fat droplets.

"Danika," he mumbles against her neck, his arms tight around her. 

She clings to him like a limpet as the built-up pressure drains away, leaving her hollow and drained. Under her, Scott grunts and tenses as he comes, and Danika smells the salt of his tears as well as her own, wet against her throat. His cock softens and slips out of her. She barely notices.

Then there's nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing and their hearts, slowing from their racing, rib-breaking beat to something less painful.

"I think it's over," Scott whispers, like he's afraid of breaking the silence. Like saying the words might make it start again.

Danika considers it, her face still turned away from him. "I think you're right." 

"Are you okay?"

"Are you?" she asks, so she doesn't have to think of an answer. She _can't_ think of an answer right now.

"If you are." 

"Oh." She squirms awkwardly out of his lap and shivers, looking around for her discarded clothes. Her pants and boots are nearby, with their backpack, but there's no sign at all of her underwear. It's not as if she was attached to that particular pair, but it doesn't make her feel great to slip her pants back on without them, especially considering how sticky and sore she feels as the numbness ebbs away.

Scott has less dressing to do than her, so he's the one who says, "Was that... there before?"

She doesn't realise what he's talking about at first, and then it hits her: fresh air flooding down from an opening that's maybe twenty-five feet above them. No sunlight—how long have they been down here?—but fresh air. 

Danika is suddenly wide awake. She grabs the cell from the bag and checks it. They have reception, and she could cry with happiness. They'll have a lot to explain to the search and rescue people when they come, like the bloodied tear in Scott's pants with no sign of a wound and the way they both reek of sex that surely even a human can smell, but that's a problem for the future. 

Like the sex Danika knows they'll have to talk about at some point, because Scott's too good of a guy to ignore it and pretend like it never happened. And, honestly, she doesn't know if she wants that from him or not. She glances at Scott as she dials 911, and is disconcerted to find he's watching her.

"Hey," he says quietly.

"What?" she asks, covering the bottom half of the phone with her hand. Shit, her gloves are gone. She liked those gloves. She's thinking about gloves instead of the awkward conversation they're about to have.

Scott holds up the flower and smiles tiredly.

She rolls her eyes so hard it hurts. "Oh my god."


End file.
